


Asunder

by aeriamamaduck



Series: Cyrodiil's Child [26]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M, Light the Dragonfires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was shaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asunder

The world around her was roaring, an unholy noise filled with an agony the world had never known before that moment.

Minerva stood in the rubble, unmindful of the red trickle coursing down her face. She didn’t even feel the stone’s impact or the sting of a cut on her hairline. Her heart raced ( _why did it still beat)_  as she raised a shaky leg over the fallen column, her sword clanging loudly on it. The sound makes her ears hurt. Suddenly it was as though her skin turned to sheer ice, and the silver weapon slipped from her fingers with a loud clang, and she swore her ears bled.

Not the statue, though. The statue was pristine white, without a blemish. No blood stained it. The being had been flesh and blood. Minerva knew it, _knew that flesh_  and searched for it. Everything inside of her trembled as she walked, her stomach somehow knowing that this was all wrong. The gods would come soon, they’d fix everything, and they’d give her a miracle like when they brought Uriel to her lonely cell.

Gods how the air roared. How her throat burned.

Still she called imperatively, “Martin.”

It would happen when she set her hand on the stone. He’d return to her, whole and alive, take her hand in his and put the warmth back in her body  _(she was shaking so hard)._

She reached for the stone, its reptilian leg, and dared to smile. He had to see her smiling when he came back. He loved her smile.

The pads of her fingers touched warm stone. It was smooth.

It did not live.

Minerva settled her palm on the stone’s curve, bringing her other hand to it and pushing. She had to topple it over and break it open—she had to! He was trapped. Gods, he couldn’t  _breathe!_  He had to be in this thing! He won! He won the final battle! He saved Tamriel! She was his, and she was waiting. Why didn’t he come to her?

She clenched her teeth as she beat the stone with her fists, refusing to hear again the words that had fallen upon her ears like swords, cutting her down.

 _He didn’t say them! He didn’t say them!_  She fell on her knees, groping the stone and looking up desperately.

She was beneath the dragon’s wing and she remembered.

_I thought he would fly, fly us out and we’d be safe at last._

She opened her mouth, gasping and choking as the horror rose in her very soul. Everything tethered itself to this moment, every kill she made, every person she saved, every drop of blood she shed. None of it ended this torment. None of it freed Martin. None of it made the stone yield to her hands.

“C-come back,” she croaked, the first tear finally falling from her straining eyes. “Please come back, I love you so much, please…” She tried embracing it, rubbing her face against the hard surface and smearing her blood and tears on it. It had to be enough. “Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back.” Her voice kept breaking, torn by those wretched words she’d heard in her head.

“Come back. Come back.  _Come back.”_

She became aware of terrible screams, like a throat being ripped apart. The words were unintelligible but filled with anguish like no other. Why oh why was the screaming so terrible?

Her throat burned to cinders and she realized she was the one screaming like a gutted animal, prostrate against Martin.

It was Martin it was  _all that was left of him and he was not coming back._

Why was she still alive? Why couldn’t she just slam her head against the stone until it was over? Why couldn’t she grab her sword and end it? Why couldn’t she get back up?

She was wrong when she sat in the prison: _Nothing was worse than **this**_.

Minerva kept screaming, so sure her voice was in pieces, that her body and very being was a complete ruin, but felt strong hands take hold of her. She thrashed, not exactly struggling but still in agony. Her cries were weaker, but she would never stop. Not until the pain ended.

Her sight was blurred from the tears and blood, only seeing Ocato’s hazy silhouette framed by the smoke that swirled around them.

_“Lady Minerva, it is over! Where is Martin?”_

His name started it all over. Minerva clutched her stomach and sobbed in a broken howl,  _“He’s gone!”_

She lay in his arms, then later in a bed, and kept wailing even though her throat was raw and her eyes spent.

Just what was this body she was in? She didn’t recognize it anymore.


End file.
